To Be Or Not To Be
by StarLightKeeper
Summary: Set near end of season one. What happens when Bree is *VERY* depressed over Rex's death? She has for guns, is in the NRA, and is depressed. You tell me if this reminds you of what Mary Alice did...
1. When Your Best Friend is a Gun

The tears spilled out of her eyes like the sparkling water of Niagara Falls. She was thankful that her children were not home. Bree, in the very rare moments when she cried, was however, extremely loud. The sobs that came from her had been suppressed for whatever amount of time had passed since she had received the call that had told her about her husband's death.

She cradled herself in her own arms, once again grateful that no one could see or hear her. It would be embarrassing for Bree Van de Kamp to be caught in a moment of weakness. After all, Bree appeared to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother; in fact, Bree appeared to be perfect all around, and that's how she preferred it. Life was easier when people thought you were perfect and never needed help.

_Maybe_, Bree thought, _it is better to have someone to care about you in your time of need._ She wasn't sure if she should call her friends. It was, after all, two o'clock in the morning. Would they even want to hear about Bree's problems? Would the care if she had emotions? Bree paused at that last question. It had been so long since she had aloud even herself to see her own emotions that she had forgotten she had them. She was going to call her friends. She _had_ to call them.

She picked up her phone and dialed Lynette's number. She listened to the phone ring three times before Lynette picked up. "Hello?" she said in a tired voice. Bree was reconsidering the call and hanging up, but Bree Van de Kamp never left anything unfinished.

"Hi," she said. She realized that her voice was very weak. Lynette must have known that something was wrong. It would have been obvious to anybody who heard Bree sound like this. After all, Bree was the perfect woman with no emotions.

"Are you all right?" Lynette's voice was no longer tired, but instead filled with worry. "Are you crying?" Lynette desperately needed to know what was going on with her friend. It may have been late, she may have been tired, and she may have been woken up from a glorious dream, but Bree was in trouble and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Trying to straighten her voice out she replied, "Would you come over? It's…urgent." Bree's voice had sounded much better, but if Lynette had decided to come there was no way that she could hide the tear stained face and the puffy red eyes. But Bree had never gone any where by giving up. She could try.

"Sure," Lynette responded. She found Bree's request unusual, but it would have been worse if Bree lived across town instead of right in the neighborhood. "But you didn't answer my questions."

"Please," Bree said. Her voice was starting to crack. She had to get Lynette over soon if she didn't want to continue crying.

What Lynette realized most in Bree's voice was that Bree hadn't asked nor told her please; she had practically begged her. That was what made Lynette Scavo go to her friend. "I'll be right there, give me a minute."

"Thank you," Bree said from her bed room.

"It's no trouble, really," Lynette finished before she hung up the phone. The second she hung up with Bree she called Gabrielle and Susan. She used the two way on her phone and somehow managed to get both of her friends to help Bree.

Bree, in the mean while, was sitting in her bed crying. She had the palms of her hands pressed to her eyes and the tears came out even stronger then before. She had to let it out now, before her mother-in-law, Phyllis, arrived.

The three girls showed up at Bree's door and rang the bell. Bree, on the other hand, pulled out one of her guns. Being in the NRA she knew exactly where to shoot a person to kill them. Bree just never expected that the person she would kill would be herself.


	2. Unsuspected Guests

"Bree," called Gabrielle Solis from outside the front door. "We know, you're home; open the door!" She was banging on it furiously now. Gabrielle had been woken up in the middle of the night and she wanted her beauty sleep. Of course, she knew that something was very wrong with Bree and that was the only reason she was up.

Susan Meyers on the other hand was not banging the door. She let out a gasp as she saw the scene unfolding in Bree's bedroom window. One of her best friends, Bree Van de Kamp, was about to commit suicide. "Bree!" she yelled, "stop!"

Lynette saw what Susan was seeing. She had enough. She kicked down the door and all three of the girls rushed to Bree's room.

Bree took a large gulp as she pointed the gun at her head. She knew that what she was doing was wrong, but without Rex, it really didn't matter. Her gun was loaded and ready to kill. "Bree!" s voice from behind her sounded. Lynette, Susan, and Gabrielle were standing in her bedroom doorway. She wasn't sure which one of them had said her name, but it really didn't matter anymore.

"Bree," Lynette said as she came closer to her friend. "Put down the gun and let's talk. It'll be alright." She walked slowly towards Bree. Her feet were taking long strides and she maneuvered herself close to Bree.

"No!" she screamed. "It _won't_ be alright! He's dead okay? Dead!" she shouted at her friends. "He's gone and he's never coming back!" She pressed her finger on the trigger a bit more, but not enough to set it off. She elevated her elbow slightly and continued to hold the gun. She wasn't sure where her anger was coming from. Bree had always been able to channel it before, but now it escaped like a hungry tiger being released from the circus.

"He's dead?" asked Susan. "How did he die? His surgery was supposed to be tomorrow wasn't it?" Susan had a feeling that it was Rex. She had never seen her friend act this way before. She must have really loved him. Of course she did, she was his wife after all.

"Yes," she said in a calmer tone, still not releasing her grip on the gun. "He didn't make it. His heart gave out." The tears were flowing freely and the sobs had started up again. "I can't live without him? Don't you understand?" She was half asking half screaming. "He was my husband, I loved him and now he's dead! I was the one who should have brought him sooner! It's my entire fault! I didn't _have_ to make the bed! I choose to! He could have lived if it hadn't been for me! I murdered my own husband!"

Bree dropped to the floor, her gun also falling, but it fell without a hand to cover it. It clattered to the floor as Bree herself did. "It's alright sweetie," Gabrielle said. "Life will go on." She knew that it was a poor choice of words, but they had to be spoken.

"I _killed_ him. My own husband is dead because of me." She sobbed even harder and all of her friends crowded around her.

"Listen to me," Lynette said as she took Bree's chin and looked the woman straight in the eyes. "Gabrielle is right. Life will go on. You didn't murder him. Do think it would have made a difference if you had gotten there a few minutes earlier? It wouldn't have done you any good! It was just his time Bree. Over time you'll learn to accept that."

Bree looked almost back to normal. The tears had stopped falling and her voice was calm once again. "Yes, I will. I just think it will be hard to explain to my unborn and unsuspected child how I was making a bed while their father had a heart attack."


End file.
